


As Long As You'll Have Me

by FrostedFlame



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Conventions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I'll come up with more of these later on, M/M, Markiplier - Freeform, jacksepticeye - Freeform, recovering from trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 03:51:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15677478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedFlame/pseuds/FrostedFlame
Summary: Ah yes, conventions were the way to go when you wanted to connect with your fans one on one. It was always amusing to see what kind of questions fans came up with. Fascinating how, knowing you may as well have only a single chance to ask your idol something, could procure questions with the answer something the fan desired at heart. It showed just what fans noticed, and what they cared about. It was usually one of my favorite parts, for the answering portion was somehow so clinically mechanical, a form of social surgery. One answer could be the make or break of a fan.But then again, I could just be dramatic. Or I could be wrong. It may be the make or break of me.





	As Long As You'll Have Me

Ah yes, conventions were the way to go when you wanted to connect with your fans one on one. It was always amusing to see what kind of questions fans came up with. Fascinating how, knowing you may as well have only a single chance to ask your idol something, could procure questions with the answer something the fan desired at heart. It showed just what fans noticed, and what they cared about. It was usually one of my favorite parts, for the answering portion was somehow so clinically mechanical, a form of social surgery. One answer could be the make or break of a fan.

But then again, I could just be dramatic. Or I could be wrong. It may be the make or break of _me_.

_____________

 

“Jack, Jack stop.” Mark’s voice rang through my mind, piercing through the turmoil for a brief second before it was lost to the typhoon of panic that had its grip on my mind.

I shook my head. Pushing him away and clawing at my face, my hair, anything to hold onto. I was being swept away, I knew I was. My eyes flitted from object to object, person to person as my breathing became more and more erratic. I swallowed, my vision fading in and out as I gasped for breath.

_Not again._

Hands grabbed me, voices overlapped, everything was too much. The words spoken could not reach me. I may not have known the words uttered, but I damn well could recognize the emotion that drove them.

_I don’t need pity. I don’t need comforting._

They were all staring at me, I could tell. I didn’t want them to stare. I didn’t need their pity.

A soft pair of hands touched my shoulder. I flinched. “Jack, look at me.”

I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I looked to the wall to my right. White. Too much white. The posters were white, the walls were white. The plastic frame of the billboard was white. Memories of that night at the hospital flashed through my mind.

_No. Stop. Stop!_

“Jack, please. Look at me.”

I swallowed, I tugged at my shirt, my breathing sped up. The people stepped closer. Authoritative figures looked my way.

“Jack, I’m here. Jack, listen to me.”

_I don’t need their pity. I don’t need their help._

“Sean.”

I closed my eyes. My hands stopped worrying the hem of my shirt. With a word, I took control. With a name, I stopped. I focused. The shirt I was wearing had an itchy tag at the back of it, I had forgotten to take it off last night before the convention. Hands were resting on my shoulders, the thumbs resting on my collar bone.

Hands.

_Mark_.

I opened my eyes, my chest rising and falling to compete against the rapid change in my breathing. The fan’s question stopped ringing in my head. The letters and words dissipating.

_Mark._

I looked up. A shirt. It had buttons, it was soft. I focused on the color. Red. Black. A label attached to these details flashed in my head. **Mark’s lucky flannel**.

_Mark’s here._

Luck. I was lucky. That’s what I was. One of the hands on my shoulder moved to left my chin up, and suddenly I was looking into eyes. It was said that eyes were the window to the soul, and in Mark’s soul I could see dozens of emotions. His soul couldn’t decide which one to settle on, but it seems that meeting my eyes helped him decide. But I couldn’t read it. I was always so good at reading emotions.

_Why don’t I understand?_

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

I let out a sob. Only then did I realize I had been crying. My hands moved to wipe my tears away. I was ashamed to have cried in front of all these people. The people. My fans. The fan who asked the question to something they shouldn’t have known. I whipped my head over to see that we weren’t in the convention hall anymore. When did we move?

Mark seemed to sense my confusion for he said, “I ended the panel when I saw you start to freak out a little at the question.” A rueful smile played upon his lips, “I remembered the last time you had a panic attack. I felt so helpless last time, and I didn’t want to ever feel that way again. So I guess you could say I did a little research.”

I looked up in surprise. “You remembered,” I croaked.

“Of course I did. It’s not every time a fan asks about the deceased, is it? Now, let’s get you back to the hotel, shall we?”

I blinked. “But what about the panel?”

“Our time was almost up anyway. It’ll be fine. Although I do think you should get some rest, try to relax a bit. Maybe later I can show you that Chinese place I told you about. If you’re up to dinner, that is.” He smiled again, but this time the reassurance didn’t seem to be wholly real, for he himself didn’t feel reassured. What was he worried about?

I nodded in lieu of an answer. His response was a hand to my back, guiding me out and towards the hotel. The feather-light touch kept me grounded, it became my connection back to the world. A temporary relief until I could get back to my room.

**Author's Note:**

> Just testing the AO3 waters with my first work. This will be chaptered, more will come based on the feedback I receive. Rest assured that this won't be the last you see of this fic.


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